Muscle
by Tince
Summary: Aches and pains. What's an honest merc to do? - *A drizzle of Rayne.


Disclaimer: Don't own it. Wish I did though... I'd be watching it right now 'stead of writing this note.

**Muscle**

by Tince

Jayne Cobb blinked.

She wasn't really doing that, was she?

He blinked again.

Nope, still there.

_Ta ma de_.

...he must have pushed himself too hard (though it struck him, that that had _never_ happened before) and now he was sitting in the cargo bay, hallucinatin' (he remembered Doc's word) watching Crazy do somethin' he had no-kinda right to be watching her doin'.

Sitting on a crate behind his weight bench, Jayne could feel the iron disc hanging loosely in his hands, as he stopped adjusting the weight on the dumbbell, and he not-so-secretly focused on the jarrin' scene in front of him.

Serenity's resident _feng le_ pilot/assassin/moonbrain/dancer/pain-in-his-_pi-gu_ had come onto the grated platform overlooking the bay a couple of minutes past, and had plunked herself down with (he casually noticed) a surprising lack of grace. And now she was sitting there all innocent-like ("Not!" his brain shouted) slowly rubbin'—no, _massagin'_—some sort of goop into her skin.

On her _ruttin' _upper thigh.

While pushing her skirt up. On a _raised_ platform. In front of him.

Jayne gulped.

The _way _she was doin' that... filled his mind with fi'teen different kinds of unsavoury, going-to-the-'special hell'-kind of thoughts. Sweet Buddha, what the hell was Crazy doin'?

He took a few deep breaths and did a quick, casual (he hoped) inventory of the space 'round him. From the way she was focused on that _gorram _leg of her's, he'd wager she hadn't noticed him standing there below her.

He angled his head. He could faintly hear what sounded like...Zoe? Nah, Inara talkin' to Kaylee, probably in front of her shuttle. He looked up real slowly, _casually_ and figured since he couldn't see 'em, they couldn't see him either.

He knew Mal and the Doc were in the sick bay. Cap'n had got himself roughed up right and good this time—he grinned to himself. He had said it near five times, he should'a brung Vera; and now he'd bet the Doc was irritated and tryin' to patch up a whinin', complainin' Mal. Zoe had gone to the bridge as soon as they'd got back from the job in the morning, refusing to get her wounds seen to by the Doc, and she'd be there for awhile, just sittin'. His head protested that the number was wrong somehow, even now — but that was five outta five.

He sighed in relief.

And then proceeded to near choke on his own spit when he correctly identified the feeling as 'relief'.

Jayne Cobb didn't know much about feelings and emotions an' such an' such — he sneered mentally, he wasn't a _woman_ — and that was the he _liked _it, but Jayne knew that when a man started feeling relief that a pretty (...well, Kaylee thought so,_ not_ him) girl's brother and sorta-menacin'-father-like-figure were outta the room, that meant trouble.

Trouble of the kind Jayne Cobb had always made sure he'd never find himself on the wrong end of. And that applied strict-like for sane, normal, regular women in the 'verse. The rule was _especially _true of ass-crazy, moonbrained, small, gorgeous (...well, that's what everyone else said, _not _him), ball-bustin' (_Kao_, that'd hurt), government-trained assassins.

...but she kept right on doin' it. And _sweet Buddha_, there were now odd, little gasping breaths which then turned into _soft moans_ as she rubbed her skin.

_Renci de Fozu..._

...the girl was tryin' to give him a heart attack. The _hell _was she doin'... and in the cargo bay, of all places? This here was a common area, and if he weren't allowed to walk 'round without pants on in common areas (Mal's _luh-suh _rules), then Crazy sure shouldn't be allowed to _stroke_ her legs in the bay!

He stared.

_Gorram _it, this was turnin' into one of those occasions he _really _needed to be alone, quick-like. _Or with a certain someone else_, his brain automatically inserted.

He considered just leavin' and takin' care of his problem, but what if he came back and the girl was still _fondlin' _her own leg?

He took a breath. He'd tell her that she was annoyin' him and be plain _unfriendly_ 'til she left and tortured someone else with all that touchin'. He made to move off the crate...

"River?"

... and sat back down quick. Jayne had started towards the noise but managed to keep his gaze on the weight bench, and from the corner of his eye, he saw that Inara had called out to the girl and was walking towards her on the platform.

He thought on just sneakin' away, but figured they'd hear his boots and he did _not_ need any extra attention from either of 'em at the moment. Didn't want 'em noticin'... _things._

He stayed put, kept his gaze downwards, and careful not to make any loud noises, he started stacking the discs again. Time to get things, uh... _under control._

His head angled slightly upward, he saw Ri—_Crazy _look up.

Inara reached the girl and held a hand out, "Are you all right, _mei-mei_? Is the balm helping with that bruise?"

Crazy fixed the companion with that cute—_creepy_ gaze of her's and answered in a small voice, "They_ feel _hot and cold and burn and pinch and purple. Bird's mistake. Wings were clipped."

Inara sighed in sympathy, "Yes, that was quite a fall, River but it wasn't your fault. The dose Simon started has unfortunate side-effects like everything and the dizziness must have been intense. It'll take some time before you can have your full and balanced range of motion."

Ri—_Moonbrain_ shrugged and continued_ rubbin' slow circles_ on her hip... _aiya_.

Inara waited and then, realizing the girl weren't ready to say nothin' else, smiled, "Well, Simon said that you didn't injure your hip badly, but that the area would be sore for awhile. Keep applying the salve for the next few days, and it should lessen the pain a little."

The girl sniffed and mumbled for a bit and looked down sadly at her leg.

Inara reached down and patted her hair softly, "Well, _mei-mei, _make sure to _really _massage it into the skin, or it won't penetrate and provide relief."

_Lao tyen yeh._

The weight hit the bay floor with a heavy clang.

Jayne wasn't sure but he though that his heart might have stopped. He knew it couldn't have _just_ been him 'cause that was _clearly_ one of the dirtiest sentences he had ever heard. And he knew, he hadput in the leg work—had the experience with filthy talk.

His surprise had caused him to jolt and he'd dropped the heavy iron disc, causing both of the women to look down, startled, and obviously see him sittin' there.

He could feel Crazy's eyes on him as she seemed to notice him for the first time, but she said nothing. Inara's face cleared as well and she gave him a small smile, "Oh Jayne, I'm sorry I didn't see you there."

He grunted in response, "Yeah, well... here I am."

She continued smiling at him, and he heard Moonbrain giggle a little.

...and he didn't like that. He was a _gorram _merc —one of the best there was, if ya' asked him—and he was big, mean, and downright _unsociable_ and there weren't no one in the 'verse inclined to think otherwise... 'cept his Ma.

But after Miranda (he felt his stomach clench painfully, as usual, at the name), the whole damn crew had seemed to think on his unfriendliness with somethin' like..._fondness_. He frowned to himself at the thought.

He liked 'em all fine enough—as much as was necessary for a working crew, he reasoned to himself — and had figured, might as well not leave, things were workin' out. If any of 'em were in a spot of trouble, he'd help 'em out as was decent and all, maybe even the Doc— but that did not, under any circumstances, mean that they shouldn't be intimidated by his big, scary, manly...manliness.

But they all seemed to think it was just 'nother thing. Mal had the worst plannin' skills in the 'verse, the Doc was a stiff (unless drunk), the Moonbrain was —y'know— a ballerina/killer-woman, and he was... "grumpy" (Kaylee's words, _definitely_ not his. Made him sound like one of those dumb midgets from that ol' Earth-that-Was story. Gorram Kaylee.)

But after Miranda, things were... different. And he just didn't feel like declarin' how he was "the biggest, baddest _hun dan_ in the 'verse" at dinner while they all tried not to focus on the two empty seats, more'n a year later. So he allowed their stupid jokes and smiles and told himself he'd remind 'em later.

Now Mal just grinned and brushed him off, Zoe didn't take him seriously (well, she never had so that was the same) but she smirked at him every now and then, Kaylee 'coo'-ed and tried to hug him, Inara gave him one of her genuine amused looks, the Doc sighed and ignored it, and Ri-Crazy _laughed _at him.

And that last one made his stomach feel all funny and he didn't like it. Not one _gorram_ bit.

He growled softly in emphasis of that last sentiment.

River giggled again and Inara's smile got wider, "Well, sorry to interrupt you. I'll let you get back to whatever it is you were doing."

He muttered a short "Thanks" and started tightening the already snug collars on the discs, fussin' and trying to look busy.

There were a couple more words between the two of 'em but he didn't catch any of it over all the noise he was makin'. He moved around to sit on the bench itself, and started stackin' the weights on the side. He watched out of the corner of his eye, saw a real dramatic turnin' of skirts and bracelets and hair —she was gorgeous an' all, but Jayne always thought Inara had too much _fei-oo _on all the time—as the Companion made her way in the direction of the sick bay, leavin' the moony girl alone with him again.

Ruttin' hell.

"It burns and itches and aches."

Jayne's head snapped up.

Moony was talking to him and all he'd caught was the bit about "achin' "._ Lao tyen boo._

He gaped at her and realizin' his mouth was open a bit and he looked like a real _bai chi_, he tried to rearrange his face into somethin' resembling annoyance.

And for the first time in Jayne Cobb's life, he tried _not_ to deliberately misunderstand something a pretty (...well, she wasn't _hideous_ or nothin') girl had said to him. 'Cause he didn't like her at all — didn't hate her none anymore (funny how when someone saved your sorry _pi gu_, you couldn't suss up those I-want-ya'-real-dead feelings) — but he didn't think on her _fondly_ or nothin'.

Sure she was the most deadly killer he'd ever seen ('sides himself), and she saved 'em all more'n once, and her hair smelled nice when she sat next to him at dinner and stole food off his plate (which he _hated_, but never tried to stop her case she killed him or somethin'_)_, and she laughed when he ripped on the Doc for actin' like a right _xi-niu_ Core-bred pansy, and she had the sexiest _gorram_ legs in the entire 'ver— but that didn't mean nothin'.

The girl was bratty and odd and _feng le_ and he _didn't_ like her.

...'cept she wasn't all that crazy anymore, his traitorous brain reminded him. Since Miranda—he slowly did the math in his head—which was more'n fourteen months now, she had started to get better. She was talkin' more normal and all (well, as normal as a fancified genius Core-bred _ni zi_ could) and had been comin' along with the rest of 'em for jobs as another gun-hand/Reader for what seemed like ages. And the whole she-hadn't-crashed-the ship-yet-while-pilotin' thing seemed like a pretty good sign.

The Doc gave her smoothers every now and then for her dreams and nightmares, but she didn't need 'em regular-like the way she did before.

Realizing her head was cocked to the side, looking at him like _he _was the crazy one, he could feel his neck heating up. Had she been Reading him? He knew she couldn't always control it, even though it rarely happened these days.

But no... she just looked at him like she was waiting for a response. Oh right. Yeah. It'd been a solid two minutes since she'd last spoken.

He went to close his mouth a bit, and tried to act like he hadn't been interested and had just remembered her there. He gave a big dramatic sigh and asked casually ('cause he knew she'd never shut up otherwise), "Whaddya say, Moonbrain?"

She ignored the nickna—_insult_ and shifted a bit on the floor with a frown on her face.

"My femoral bone has sustained painful trauma by impact."

Jayne let out a breath—yeah, sometimes, she was still a moonbrain.

He scratched the back of his neck, "Whassat? Speak normal and plain, Crazy."

She let out a little huff—not cute, _but annoying_ he told himself— and limped from the platform into the cargo bay. He watched her as she came right up to the weight bench where he was sitting and she stopped in front of him, staring all creepy and large-eyed.

He raised an eyebrow and waited.

And wished he hadn't.

She raised a leg, and before he could say a word, she put her right foot on top of the bench —bare as usual—between his legs, bent her knee, and pulled up her skirt to the hip.

_Wuh de tyen ah._

...and then there was maybe a _gorram_ mile of creamy, pale, delicately muscled girl-flesh in front of him, and he had never, ever, _ever _wanted to _touch/taste/smell _something that bad in his entire wretch'd life.

Immediately, one part of his brain began thinkin' on doin' things he was sure the girl hadn't even _heard _of, smart as she was; the other was contemplating whether his bunk in hell would have a place for Vera; and there was still another part (...gorram it, his head _hurt)_ that noticed, runnin' long the side of her _naked _(...sweet Buddha) thigh just below her hipbone, a not-so-nice patch of dark purple, and it was shimmering lightly with some sorta of oil or somethin'.

Ah, that whole "burns" and "aches" thing made a whole lot of—less dirty, anyway—sense now.

Still there was a whole lot of exposed skin there and a hint of white cotton peeking out at the top, and there was a sort of mixed, earthy smell— like roses, and Jayne's mouth went dry.

"Uhhh..."

He cleared his throat and tried again.

His voice came out like sandpaper, but he managed to speak. "You, uh... ya hurt yourself, right? Fell off the Infirmary bed couple of nights ago, as I 'member it."

She nodded and continued to stare at him sadly, with those big moony eyes of her's.

...while keeping that _gorram _leg in his face.

He made an effort to ignore it again, even though it was in his _ruttin' face _and asked, irritated ('cause he was), "Whatcha tellin' me for? I'm not your doctor."

Ri—Crazy sighed, "The girl understands who is medically-qualified on the ship and to whom she must report maladies and bodily afflictions, but the problem cannot be solved with the known solution. She requires a new approach."

And quicker than the wind, Moonbrain grabbed his palm, turned it upwards, and slapped a silver tube on it. In the process, she had placed the back of his hand just above her knee on the bent leg, and Jayne's eyes had nearly fallen out of his head when his knuckles felt the smooth, soft skin beneath them.

He gritted his teeth, but didn't remove his hand—he argued to himself that she might get angry and violent or somethin' if he did— and tried to focus. He looked at her and made his words angry, annoyed, "What the hell are you on about, Moony? The hell is this _go-se_?"

She gave him a stupidest _hun dan _in-the-'verse look, and tapped a fingernail against the label at the top.

"Madam Chan's Natural Healing Muscle-Mending Remedy: Soothes and Smoothes Aches and Bruises," she stated in a sing-songy voice. _Annoyin'_, he thought.

He glanced at the white label with some sort of pink, flowery pattern—that explains the smell, he thought a bit distantly—and proceeded to look up her, confused. "Alright, so this gunk's for your shiner...what the hell ya givin' it to me for?"

She gave him the 'idiot' look again and said simply, "For application."

...

Now Jayne couldn't be sure— seein' as he told the crazy girl, not five minutes ago, that he ain't no doctor—but he'd wager Binky —alright, Boo too— that he had just swallowed his tongue.

Here comes the airlock.

He didn't know how to respond. Whaddya say when...

He tried to speak again and failed. Gorram girl had busted his vocal chords on more'n one occasion now and about three times in these past ten minutes alone.

Hoping he misunderstood her, he asked _casually_ (he hoped), "You want _me_ to...?"— an idea hit, and he suggested hopefully— "...Twist off the cap off for ya' so _you _can put this _go-se_ on?"

Yeah, he was well'n aware that the request made not a bit of sense but Jayne needed _something_, gorram it.

Ri—The Girl gave him his third 'look' of the day and said, clear as as bell, "The girl requires the services of the ship's mercenary to personally apply the herbal ointment to her ailing muscle."

...oh yeah, definitely swallowed his tongue that time.

When he just continued to look at her, large-eyed and speechless, River started again, "The Companion provided the girl with a topical remedy for damaged tissue with the recommendation of thorough massage. The girl cannot provide her own relief through application due to insufficient pressure and she requests that Jayne, who has had similar body ailments in the past, to assist."

And 'cause Jayne was trying _so damn hard_, harder than 'most anything in his life, not to give in to the part of his brain that was doing wicked things with that tube of sweet-smellin' rose salve, he managed to actually understand what the girl was trying to ask him.

...oh, HELL no.

Death by airlock, followed by an eternity in the Special Hell, was not on the agenda, no matter how damn _tempting _(...he reasoned that any willin' woman was _tempting_, not _just_ Crazy in particular) the offer was.

The effort of tryin' to keep his thoughts straight meant that the whole speakin'-an'-conversin' thing had abandoned him again. So Jayne grabbed her leg by the ankle—almost burning at the touch of another expanse of soft, _River_ skin— moved it off the bench, swung his leg around, slammed the tube back into her surprised hand, and stormed out of the bay with a low, forced out "...not in a million _gorram_ years, Moony."

* * *

River blinked.

Jayne's reaction to her polite request for assistance was typically blunt and forceful, and his rebuttal was not altogether unexpected. But he hadn't seemed angry really, almost as if he were trying to be angry. He was more... awkward.

Strange, very strange indeed.

* * *

A/N: So I've been a Browncoat for ages, and despite writing in other fandoms, I've never ventured out into this 'verse as a writer, only as an enthusiastic reader.

So what'cha think? Review!


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